CHAPTER SEVEN
Trent
I’d fucked up and I knew it.
The minute Abby drove away from the orchard with tears in her eyes, I knew I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
I spent the whole weekend trying to convince myself I was right. That I’d done the smart thing. That keeping my distance would protect both of us. That pretending what happened between us meant nothing was the responsible, adult thing to do.
Bullshit.
I hadn’t stopped thinking about her once. About the way she’d looked at me. Like I wasn’t just the grumpy orchard owner with a broken irrigation system.
I’d thought I was doing the right thing, pushing her away before things got messy. I’m not a relationship guy. I fix shit. I prune trees. I keep my head down and my heart locked up tight where no one can reach it. That’s always worked for me.
Until her.
I’d watched her walk away, and I hadn’t chased her.
But I was damn sure going to fix that now.
I didn’t bother changing out of my work clothes. I didn’t shower. I didn’t even wipe the dirt off my boots. I just grabbed my keys and drove straight into town, muttering curses at every red light and gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping me together.
Martha had given me her address without question. Just shoved a piece of paper into my hand and said, “Fix it before she decides she’s too good for you. Because she is.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I pulled up in front of Abby’s apartment building just after sunset. My heart was pounding like I’d just run ten miles uphill. I’d faced down storms that demolished years worth of trees, broken equipment every single day, flooding, frost—but nothing, nothing made me feel like this.
I jogged the stairs two at a time, my stomach twisting tighter the closer I got to her door. I hadn’t thought this through. What the hell was I supposed to say?
Hi, I’m sorry I emotionally wrecked you and tried to pretend we didn’t have the best damn night of my life?
I raised my hand and knocked.
The porch light flicked on.
I knocked again, harder this time.
A pause. Footsteps. Then the sound of the lock sliding back.
The door opened, and there she was—barefoot, in a worn t-shirt and sleep shorts, hair pulled up in a messy knot like she hadn’t expected anyone to see her tonight. She looked real. She looked beautiful. My voice felt stuck in my throat.
“Trent?” she said, brows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”
I drew in a deep breath so hard it hurt. “I came to fix what I broke.”
Her laugh at that was half-scoff, half-sob. “That’s going to take more than a wrench and a my bad.”
“Can I come in?”
She hesitated—an inch of fear, a flash of hope—and then she moved aside.
The place smelled like my orchard—like sweet cider. I knew it was her scent now. One I’d always recognize—always crave.
She crossed her arms. “Say what you came to say.”
“I fucked up,” I said, voice rough. No preamble. No more games. “I told myself I was protecting you, or me, or both of us. I said it was just sex because I was scared. That was the biggest lie I’ve ever told. It meant everything to me. You mean everything to me.”
“Yet you pretended it didn’t matter.” Her voice was soft, not unkind, just a fact.
“I didn’t pretend. I lied. Big difference.”
Her brow lifted. “That’s not a defense.”
“No. It’s a confession.” I took a step closer.
“I don’t have a grand speech. I don’t even have flowers or a plan.
You didn’t imagine any of it, Abby. The way I looked at you.
The way I touched you. That night—I’ve never had anything close to that before.
And yeah, it scared the shit out of me. But it also changed everything. ”
She blinked, her throat working like she was trying to hold something back. “Why are you here?”
“Because three days without you feels like hell. Because you got under my skin and now everything feels wrong when you’re not around. Because I’ve been walking around like a damn zombie thinking I could live without this, and I can’t. I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”
She swallowed hard. “And what exactly is us?”
“I don’t know yet. But I know I want it. I want you.” I stepped even closer, crowding her against the wall. “And I’m done pretending I don’t.”
The air between us stretched taut. Then she stepped into me and kissed me. No warning. No hesitation. Just the feel of her mouth on mine—soft and furious and forgiving all at once.
I kissed her back with all the emotion I had. She was my everything. Everything I wanted. Everything I couldn’t live without. I wrapped my hand around the back of head, holding her still so I could show her how much she meant to me.
Her hands slid under my shirt, fingers splayed against my stomach, and I made a low noise in my throat.
I pulled back just enough to breathe. “I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to fight about whose turn it is to make coffee. I want to hear you call me a grumpy bastard and still kiss me goodnight.”
“You’re really here,” she whispered.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You better not,” she said, pulling me down for another kiss that left us both breathless.
“I’m serious, Abby. I’m all in.” I framed her face with both hands, trying to say it with my touch as much as my words. “If you’ll have me. I want this. I want you.”
“You’re such an ass,” she said, smiling through her tears.
“I know,” I whispered. “But I’m yours. If you’ll still have me.”
She nodded, that same spark in her eyes I’d fallen for.
I covered her mouth with mine. We stood there, touching, kissing, wrapped in each other’s arms, wrapped in each other.
And I knew I’d found the one thing I’d been missing my whole life.
The other half of me.